The best date I’ve ever had started with me embarrassing him

Conor and I met during freshers’ week at university (Picture: Laura Clarke)

It was midnight in September 2015 and my knuckles were rapping on the door of my local arthouse cinema.   

My boyfriend, Conor, stood next to me, his face a picture of muddled confusion, as the key turned in the lock and the door opened to reveal a man standing in a dark foyer. He was clearly closed up for the night. 

‘Yes?’ he said. ‘Can I help you?’   

Smiling broadly, I made my request: ‘This is such a cute cinema! Could we come in and look around? We’ll be quick.’   

Conor looked mortified that we were imposing on what was clearly the end of someone’s shift. ‘Laura, he’s literally just about to go home.’ Turning to the man, he apologised: ‘Sorry mate, we’ll come back another time.’   

His embarrassment was palpable. I almost felt bad, but not quite – because the night I’d been planning for weeks was about to pay off.   

Conor and I met during freshers’ week at university. Both members of the comedy society, we got together weekly to play improv games and practise our stand-up. Conor’s one-liner routines were a society favourite, and I wasn’t immune to his clever wit.   

It was my first adult relationship, and Conor’s too (Picture: Laura Clarke)

Five months later, our hands met on the bus ride home, and the following weeks were a whirlwind of the type of earnest romance reserved for 19-year-old creatives.

We spent hours discussing art, film and philosophy, mulling over the same thoughts and ideas that have been well-trodden by many young lovers with an abundance of pep, hope and time.   

It was my first adult relationship, and Conor’s too. It was also the first time I’d felt truly seen by a boyfriend – we both felt so comfortable around one another.   

About a month in, Conor invited me to his student house to watch Before Sunrise – the first film in a romance trilogy. It follows a young couple who meet on a train in Europe and spend the night walking and talking in Vienna.

It was beautiful and romantic, and the film became ‘ours’. We slow-danced in my uni room to Kath Bloom’s Come Here (a song from the movie) and imagined a future where we too would wander the streets of Vienna, fingers intertwined.   

We were nearing six months together, which felt like a significant milestone. We were slowly becoming a part of one another, our days, likes and plans increasingly knitted together. I’d never felt like this before.   

Our monthly ‘anniversaries’ had all been marked somehow – brunch, a picnic in the park, renting a rowboat. But this time I wanted to go bigger. Neither of us had uttered the ‘L’ word yet, but it was beginning to feel so obviously unspoken. It needed a nudge, I thought.   

We were slowly becoming a part of one another (Picture: Honeydew Moments)

We’d been taking turns to plan our monthly dates and fortunately it was my turn. I was keen to show Conor the feelings I had for him.

I knew I wanted to incorporate Before Sunrise into our six-month date, but watching it again in our rooms didn’t feel special enough.   

Then I remembered our local cinema. It was a place that Conor – a huge film nerd – loved, but one I’d not yet visited.   

I wondered if it would be possible to hire out an entire screen, just for us.    Calling the cinema, I was ready to be rebuffed or quoted a price that I definitely couldn’t afford on my student finance loan. I explained the planned surprise for my boyfriend and that I was operating on a very small budget.   

As luck would have it, the cinema employee I spoke to was a fellow Before Sunrise fan.   

‘I tell you what,’ he said. ‘If you’re happy to come after the cleaners have gone home, around midnight, I think we could make it happen.’   

Midnight sounded particularly romantic but I nervously asked the cost, ready to see the plan dissolve before my eyes.

‘If you chuck £50 towards our chosen charity, we’ll call it that.’ 
 
I couldn’t believe his generosity and we quickly set about devising the plan. 

We’re now married and have been together for 11 years (Picture: Honeydew Moments)

When the big night arrived, Conor and I had been for a meal in the same restaurant where we’d had our first date (I even made sure to reserve the same table) and for a few drinks afterwards. On our wander home, I made sure to take us past the cinema. 
 
‘You know, I still haven’t been here — maybe we could check it out now!’ I said, skipping to the door and knocking before Conor had a chance to stop me. The ensuing interaction (rehearsed in advance) played out perfectly and, to Conor’s surprise, we were invited inside. 
 
Once in front of the big screen, the lights suddenly dimmed and the film began to play. 
 
At the first notes of the opening music, Conor turned to me, beaming like a kid at Christmas. 
 
‘You did not! You did NOT!’ he kept repeating, looking around in disbelief. 

We lost the first five minutes of the film to kissing and laughing, Conor from the surprise and me from the relief of having pulled it off. I produced a bottle of wine and a blanket from my bag, and we settled in to experience our favourite film in a way we never had before. 
 
The night was incredible, and when we got back home, Conor told me that he loved me for the first time. That night felt like the start of something more serious, more committed. 
 
We’re now married and have been together for 11 years. We’ve watched Before Sunrise countless times since, visited Vienna for our first anniversary (and again for our 10th!) and our first dance at our wedding was – you’ve guessed it – Come Here. 
 
Conor has spent the last decade trying to top that six-month date, making for some of the most romantic moments of my life – but he’s the first to admit that he hasn’t quite managed it. 
 
Yet.

Do you have a story you’d like to share? Get in touch by emailing jess.austin@metro.co.uk. 

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